


Be My Belle?

by toots (TooMany0TPs)



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beauty and the Beast Elements, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 08:41:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22847347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooMany0TPs/pseuds/toots
Summary: Hermione is 'saved' by an older woman with a lot of money. Based off Beauty and the Beast with Hermione of course representing Belle, and Bellatrix representing the Beast. No, objects do not burst into song and dance.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange, bellamione
Comments: 19
Kudos: 182





	1. You really 'Live' Here?

**Author's Note:**

> I have worked on this for at least two years, just to make sure it's fully complete before posting anything, because if there's one thing I've learnt from my last fics, is that I leave the updates far too long because of writers block. I thought, if I got this down on paper, I can beta my own work before the date of the next chapter being released.  
> This was an inspiration of Beauty and the Beast and a true facebook post (derived from Tumblr) of a guy living in absolute squalor, a thief breaks in and finds them, and decides to provide every asset they;d ever need, with the thief's minions bringing in a sofa, a bed etc. And never once questions it.

Looking around, all she can see are bare, cold walls, ceiling filled with damp and creaking, tarnished floorboards. It’s one largish room with another off to one side, the door to that room hanging off of two of for hinges and propped up by two old, ratty text books. Damn near permanently open unless the crack in the bathroom window gets too drafty.

The kitchen, or what can be classed as one anyway, is separated by a small wall to the living room and holds a sink and three double cupboards. Two of the cupboards have at least one door hanging off their hinges and the last double cupboard has both doors missing. Near to the broken kitchen is a crate topped with cardboard from a cereal box.

As she takes another look around, she finally notices the lumpy blanket in one of the corners.

It’s worn, bobbled and has lots of little holes dotted over it. At the top of the blanket, directly beneath the window, which she notes is covered by plywood, hair is spread out on the tarnished floor, a chilled autumn draft blows over her.

The relatively short, middle-aged ravenette allows herself to travel closer to the blanket and mass of hair poking out of the end.

She crouches down, resting her elbow on the leather of her trousers and tentatively brushes hair out of the way.

A girl, no more than nineteen at least lies before her. The girl, clearly malnourished and exhausted doesn’t react to the movement around her.

The ravenette sighs and strokes a finger down one of the girl’s pale, bony cheeks, her collar bone and jaw prominent.

“Hey.” She says softly, trying to wake the girl up. She carries on stroking her finger along the girl’s cheek.

She then gently prods the brunette’s shoulder and the girl shivers in reply. She retracts her legs and curls further into herself.

“Hey, kitten.” She again nudges the girl’s shoulder and the girl finally wakes up.

With a start she sits up and hurriedly shuffles away from the woman crouching over her. “Wh-who are y-you.”

The woman smiles down at her and lets her hand fall to her knee. “I’m Bella and I’m going to sort this out.” She gestures to the girl’s tiny two roomed flat.

“What? B-but it’s…I…Please, don’t. I can b-barely afford this p-place as it i-is.” She tugs her knees to her chest and covers herself with the moth-eaten blanket.

The woman chuckles and shakes her head. “No, it’s not going to cost anything.”

“Wh-…How d-did you even get in?” The brunette looks around her flat, trying to find where the woman could possibly have come from. Only her eyes move, she’s clearly too terrified to turn away from the ravenette.

The woman gracefully sits back, letting her legs fall crossed in-front of her. “I actually came in to rob you, maybe a tv or two, a phone perhaps, even a microwave. But, seeing as you don’t even have any food in the cupboard…” The woman hums and taps her lips with her fingers in thought. “I’ll be right back.”

The brunette can only nod as the woman stands back up and whips her phone out of her leather jacket pocket.

She looks at it for a moment scrolling through her contacts before letting it ring and walking back out of the door she’d come in.

And just like that the woman was gone, the door was left ajar and the brunette was left to shiver in the darkness. She huddles further into herself, too scared to move and watching the door like a hawk.

Not a moment later, the woman comes back in, Bella if she remembers correctly, with a wide grin on her face.

“Right I’ve made some arrangements, you’re coming home with me.” She crouches back down where she’d knelt then sat earlier and offers a slim hand.

“B-but…But. Stranger danger.” She whispers, hiding the lower half of her face beneath the blanket.

The woman laughs again and jiggles her hand around, trying to get the girl to hold her hand. “B-but nothing. You’re gonna catch hypothermia at this rate. Now, either stay here and from a cold or come to mine and be nice and toastie.”

The brunette looks up at the woman through her lashes, untrusting of this sudden change in her life. “How do I know you’re not going to kill me? Or _worse_.”

“Oh, come now, what could possibly be worse than dying from a cold, on your own in a place like this?”

The brunette huffs, looks away and then her hand shoots out and grabs the older woman’s, who grins at her answer.

“Right, come on then kitten.” She helps tug the girl up, who clearly, is trying to disguise her discomfort from lying on a cold, hard floor for so long. “Steady on, wouldn’t want you falling over before we’ve even taken a step now do we?”

The brunette rolls her eyes and holds onto the offered arm and sighs. Limping as they take the first few steps.

However, just before they reach the door she stops. “W-what about…erm…what about my home?” The ravenette tuts and tugs on the girl’s arm, she’s too weak to not follow.

“This place can burn in hell as far as I’m concerned. Now, shall we?” She looks over at the girl, who’s gaze is trained to the ground and her feet slowly shuffling away next to the clear click of the woman’s heels.

“Hermione.”

“What’s that kitten?”

“My name, it’s Hermione.” The woman grins again.


	2. Mansion?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's introduced to Bellatrix's not so little accommodation.

The initial two things she notices when she first gets out of the sleek black short-bed pickup is, she’s no-where near the poorer end of town and the house, or more like Mansion, is massive: set back far from the road they’ve stopped on and surrounded by rolling hills and a glow in the distance caused by the town.

She hears a light cackle from next to her and looks over to see the woman looking at her with a wide grin. She looks like the Cheshire cat.

“Is this all yours?” She asks in wonder, having turned back to said massive building.

“Mmmhhh, my … late, husband payed for my car. I bought this place myself.” Hermione frowns at the way the woman says ‘late’ but doesn’t stew over it. “Come on then kitten.” She slides her hand into the younger woman’s and tugs, pulling her into the mansion.

She’s met with a wave of warmth and it immediately starts chasing the cold out of her bones and making her cheeks flush. Her fingers start to hurt already from the chill being literally pushed out. There’s a soft glow from all the lamps dotted along the entryway, which frames the start of a set of rather grand stairs. Grand enough to curl around the edges of the banister ends.

“Woowwww.” She says, in complete awe of the woman’s home.

“My other home’s much quainter, but I like this place because I could lose people in it. You can spend a week here with five people and not see any of them until the end of the week.”

Hermione runs her fingers over one of the two bushels of flowers sat in plain glass vases. The white lilies and red rose buds stirring together in a beautiful fragrance.

“Miss Black.” A man in a three-piece pin-striped suit bows to the woman stood next to her. His features are sharp and weasel like, with slightly pointed ears and a conk to challenge even Prince Phillips’.

“Ah, Norman. Retire for the evening, I have no more need of you.” The man bows again, a perfect right-angle and Hermione cringes at how straight his legs are, on a good day she can just about tie her laces.

“Thank you, Ma’am.” He stops bowing and turns, leaving through a side door.

Hermione looks over at the woman, who notices her staring and quirks a brow. “What?” The brunette blushes and quickly turns away, embarrassed she’d been caught.

“You must be hungry. Come, I will make us some food.” Hermione hesitantly follows as they walk past two lots of doors to the slightly less grand one sat just beneath the staircase.

She opens it and drags her through. They come to an old fashioned, wood and copper furnished kitchen, two large, old stoves sit off to the right, covering the whole of that wall, a door in the middle of the one facing the stoves and then a longer wall directly in-front of them, with two squat windows letting them peek out at ground level to the fairy-tale garden beyond. Beneath the windows is a sink, metre long work surface on one side and the other holds a marble cutting board.

In the middle of the room lies a beaten wooden table, not too high and not too low.

“This is your kitchen?” The woman chuckles and goes to the door to the left.

“Yes, now, what do you want, butty? Jacket potato? … full English?” Hermione stares at the woman, her mouth hung open.

“…Butty, Please?” Hermione follows through the other door and gasps at the sheer size. “What is this place?”

“Have you never seen a pantry before?” She shakes her head as she scans the five high shelves. In the far back are two chest freezers, lining either side of the room are metal shelves, bursting with food.

“Now, what would you like on the butty? I’ve got chicken, ham, cheese, bacon, lettuce, tuna…you name it it’s here.”

Hermione rings her hands nervously. “Ch-cheese please.”

“Good choice. Now … cheddar or Red Lester?”

“Whatever’s there please.” Hermione picks up a small pot from the spices shelf, looking at the top brand.” “You really do have everything in here.”

“I love my food, I often take over my chefs and cook myself, most of the time it’s just me anyway.” She reaches through one of the shoulder height shelves and rummages about. “Ah-ha.” She shouts and pulls out a half of tiger bread loaf.

She then moves over to one of the chest freezers which, Hermine notes, is actually a chest fridge, and pulls out a block of orange cheese.

The woman turns around and swiftly makes her way back out of the room. “I’ve always loved Red Lester, always found it nice and buttery.” She slaps the bread and cheese down onto the wooden table and Hermione watches intently as she thinly slices the bread and grates the cheese, her mouth starts watering when she pulls the grater away and the cheese flows out and over the sides of the overly small plate.

Hermione has to wipe the drool from her chin as she watches the butty be put together.

But, before her stomach can complain again at the sight of food a plate of butty halves is placed in-front of her and she grins up at the woman and immediately dives in.

She notices the older woman walk out and come back in with a small bowl and leans against the worksurface, picking what must berries from the bowl as she watches the brunette in-front of her. “Y’know, the butty’s not gonna escape, you can slow down.” The girl looks up and watches as the ravenette slowly pops a fat strawberry in her mouth, bites and raises an eyebrow.

She’s salivating for a whole other reason now – stop it, she’s old enough to be your mum….and?

She chokes a little on the crust as her inner thoughts swirl around. But then ignores them and carries on scoffing the rest. The woman just chuckles and eats a blueberry.

“Oranges are one of the only fruits I absolutely hate, kiwis, strawberries, bananas, all fine. Oranges no.”

Now that Hemrione’s finished her food, she lets herself really view this woman for the first time, afterall the first time she looked at the woman was in the dark and the second she was concentrating more on the food she was making.

But she can properly see her now and by _god_ is she regretting she had. Full red lips, jet black hair, that ‘take-no-shit’ attitude. All the stereotypes of a badass, this woman is them.

Said woman seems to notice her staring and looks up from her bowl. “Can I help you?” She asks with yet another smirk and a raised eyebrow.

Hermione stutters. “W-well, n-noooo?” The ravenette smiles mischievously and pushes away from the worksurface, placing the bowl down behind her in the process.

She strides over to the table Hermione’s sat at and leans seductively onto it. The brunette can’t help but notice as Bellatrix purposely pushes her arms together and dips her shoulders enough for the girl to see right. Down. Her. Top.

She chokes and flicks her eyes up, looking just above the woman’s head. This woman doesn’t play fair.

“Y’know, for a nineteen-year-old, you’re pretty damn fine. I bet the boys are just falling to your feet.”

She swallows noisily, Bellatrix watching intently as her throat bobs. “N-no, I just, they’re, they’re not.” She just about manages.

“Oh? And why’s that?” The woman in-front of her trails her hand across the table, her cat like nails scraping into the surface. It soon finds it’s way from wood to flesh and the hairs on the back of Hermione’s neck raise and goosebumps prickle along her skin.

The brunette looks away, ashamed. “Oh, tut, come now, tell me, I’m sure the boys beg for you.” Her hand’s made it’s way to scratch gently at her jaw.

“N-no, no they don’t.” Hermione looks up and daringly stares at the woman. The fingers under her chin move up to her cheek and she rubs a thumb over pale skin.

“Why? Tell me.” Her thumb moves up from her cheek to stroke along the slant of her eyebrow, delighting in the imperfectness of this beauty.

Hermione looks away again and moves away from the woman’s reach, but the hand follows. “Ah-aaah, tell me.” The ravenette’s now leaning on the table with her elbow allowing Hermione a glance even further down her top.

Hermione watches her for a second, this woman is literally killing her.

“Because I don’t really interact with people normally.” She whispers, looking away again.

The response she gets isn’t what she was expecting. She got a tsk, accompanied by the woman moving round the wooden table and enveloping her in a hug, her head being pushed into full breasts. She calms a little at the surprising warmth of the woman.

“No-one interacts normally anyway. The world would be boring if we were all the same.” Bellatrix pulls away a little and looks down at the girl, whose hands are clenched tightly around the edge of her chair, painfully so.

“Now, now that you’ve been fed….” She pulls away completely and moves to one of the higher cupboards, opens it and reaches up, the brunette watching her backside the whole while – what?

Bellatrix then moves to the sink, fills the glass with water and puts in-front of Hermione. The girl eyes it suspiciously.

“Oh, come now, if I’d have wanted to poison you, you would know about it.” She flicks her eyes from the glass to the woman stood expectantly next to her before picking the glass up and taking three long glugs, draining a hefty two thirds of it and then slamming it back down and smacking her lips. “Thank you.” She breathes out.

“No probs, now, now that you’ve been fed and watered, hows about some sleep. You look like you’ve not slept in years.” The ravenette smiles for the first time and rubs the deep bags underneath the girl’s eyes with her thumbs.

“Come, I will show you your room.” Hermione takes the offered hand for the second time that day, again, allowing herself to be tugged along.

She’s led up the steps they’d passed earlier and then up yet another. The highest corridor is three rooms less and a damn sight shorter than the bottom floor’s foyer. She’s led all the way to the end, to the third door, the only door facing the stairs they’d just ascended.

“This, is your new room.” Bellatrix opens the door, pushes through and then stands to the side, letting the girl in to see. A quiet gasp sounds into the room and the older woman smiles.

“Th-this, all this is mine? But _why_?” She swivels round to the woman stood behind her, her eyes squinted with suspicion.

“Because why not, I’m quite literally rolling in dosh, you obviously need that dosh.” The ravenette shrugs and digs her fingers into the shallow pockets of her leather jacket.

She turns back to the room taking it all in for a second time. This is all hers, really?

The room, a crisp ivory, with a queen-sized bed on the right of the room, black pillows and duvet helping to spate the whiteness. A set of oak chest-of-drawers and a full-length mirror stands on the left side, and right in-front of her, if she steps round the bed is a large balcony juliette window. “Can I..?” She trails off, her hand resting on one of the L-handles.

Bellatrix nods and grins as the brunette almost falls through the door. When she finally finds her footing, Bellatrix’ already leaning against the black, metal railings overlooking her gardens. “Woooaaaaahhhhhh.” Hermione leans over the railings, looking all the way to the patio below.

“Do you see that really old beach tree over there?” She points to the weathered wood and carries on when Hermione hums. “The hedge it’s in, that goes all the way around that meadow…that’s all mine.” The brunette ‘woah’s’ again and they fall into a silence letting them enjoy the view.

Bellatrix pushes away and claps her hands. “Welp! I’m off, make yourself comfortable, you’ll find nightwear in the middle set of draws. Goodnight.” And just like that the ravenette’s sauntered off and has closed the door leaving Hermione still on the balcony, one hand gripping the railings and looking at the door in shock.

What the hell just happened?


	3. A Grand Tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione finally wakes from her beauty sleep and has yet another meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's 1 hour early as I'm impatient :)

“Miss?” The brunette curled up on one side of the bed grumbles. “Miss Hermione?” She grumbles again and yawns.

“Huh?” She rubs her eye as she looks around in confusion. “Where am I?” She yawns again and sits up.

“You’re in Black manor miss.” She scrunches her nose up. – Black manor? – She then looks over to the door that’s been pushed ajar and frowns.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Norman. Mistress Black’s butler miss.” He opens the door fully and bows to the utterly confused brunette.

“Mistress Black?” He huffs in annoyance and nods.

“Yes, the lady of the house. She brought you in two and a half days ago.” Hermione’s frown deepens.

“Two and a half days ago? Have I really slept that long?”

“Mistress said to leave you sleeping, and here we are.” He sweeps his hand over her dishevelled appearance.

“So. You’re telling me, that I’ve really been brought here? *he nods* Been given food? *He nods* And slept….for two and a half days?” He nods for the last time.

“Correct, but it’s now 9 o’clock at night and she wishes you up and fed.” And with that he bows just his head and closes the door.

Hermione sits confused for a moment before finally gathering her wits and yawning, stretching and looking around confusedly.

“Well, better get up then hadn’t I?” She throws the cover off and swings her legs over the edge, for once not struggling to move.

She walks first to the balcony and peaks out of the thick blackout curtains, black like the bedding. She smiles as she looks at the stars, appearing behind the horizon, nowhere being polluted by light and just the sound of the birds and the wind battering the glass.

That’s when she notices the stench, she’s a making and looks around. – another door, huh, who would’ve thought – she walks over to the other door and carefully pries it open, a small, porthole and one wide, clouded window lets in enough moon light for her to see the claw-footed bath, stand in shower and wide sink.

She strips out of her classic striped PJs she takes good advantage of the shower, then makes her way out of the bathroom

She hums to herself as she turns around and makes her way over to the chest of draws, her face drops as she notices her clothing no longer in the top draw where she’d left them.

She shuffles through all the draws and finds enough clothes to clothe all of England. Weird thing is, they’re all either white or a pale shade of blue or yellow.

She pulls out a plain white v-neck, soft pair of blue cotton shorts and a matching pair of nude coloured underwear and puts them on.

She looks like a friggin cloud.

Sighing, her hands smooth out the shirt, ignoring the feel of prominent ribs and then makes her way out of the room; and back down all of the flights of stairs she remembers when she first got here.

She’s soon greeted by Norman and gladly follows the finely dressed man into the kitchen and the moment she steps through the doorway she’s greeted by the smell of heavenly food and the hustle of the kitchen staff. There’s someone chopping, someone cleaning, someone at the stove and finally someone darting in and out of the pantry.

She steps back as someone hurries past her, the boy going back to the pantry. “Mistress Black is through this door.” He looks behind him expectantly and carries on walking when Hermione follows.

He opens the door and stands to the side, allowing the woman sat at one of the three large sofas to see the girl appearing. She smiles, a brilliant white, cutting through the long ringlets framing her face. “Hermione. Finally, I thought you’d fallen down the plug-hole.” She stands up to greet the girl, reaching out and lifting her hand to her lips, pecking each knuckle before clasping it in both of hers and looking intently into her eyes.

Hermione takes the time to notice the arm still hidden behind her back.

She avoids her prying gaze. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know I’d slept so l-long.” A light blush paints her cheeks.

“Oh, kitten, no need for that. Now, I’m sure you’re hungry again, come, all that sleeping can’t do anyone any good.” Bellatrix leads Hermione to the 8-seater table, far less rustic and crooked than the one in the kitchen. Two places are set, one at the head of the table and one right next to it.

The ravenette pulls out the chair on the side of the table and helps tuck the brunette in, she thanks her. The older woman grins and pulls her arm from behind her back and presents a single red rose. “For you, kitten.” Then watches as the woman disappears back out the door leading into the kitchen; and all turns quiet.

She smiles at the rose and tucks it behind her ear after checking for thorns.

Hermione takes the time to pick up the utensils and inspects them. Why on Earth are there two sets of cutlery.

The door opens, and she slams the knife back down onto the table feeling like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. The woman chuckles and Hermione looks away with a deep blush.

“You can touch things you know, I’m not going to chop your hand off.” The brunette giggles nervously before moving a single finger to prod at the knife she’d slammed down.

“Why are there so many sets?” She glances up at the woman as she sits down.

“Oh, because there’s a set for starters, mains, pudding, bread and butter…elevenses? I don’t really know why they’ve laid out for more than one course. I only asked them to make one thing.” The brunette smiles, liking the way the woman’s forehead creases.

The moment’s interrupted however when two servants come in carrying steaming plates of food. Hermione’s mouth waters at the sight; not noticing the ravenette watching her with rapt attention.

The plates are set in-front of the pair and Hermione doesn’t peel her eyes away from the food set out before her. Bellatrix smiles up at the smartly dressed pair who nod once before leaving.

“Please, dig in.” The brunette dives in with gusto. Bellatrix holds in a chuckle at the table manners the brunette seemingly doesn’t possess. She too digs in and by the time she’s managed to eat half of hers, Hermione has finished and is now looking round at the room. “Did that touch the sides?”

She watches with satisfaction as her cheeks tint a pretty pink. “Y-yes.” She nods. Bellatrix sighs and places her cutlery on her plate, some food left. She stands and offers a hand to the brunette who looks up at her with questioning eyes.

“I want to show you the rest of the house. You looked about ready to drop when you first got here.” Bellatrix takes great joy in noticing the girl’s colour return; what with the sickly white she had been in the dark ‘early days’.

Hermione smiles and takes the offered hand and lets herself be led out of the room. “First stop, the living room.” Bellatrix makes her way through a side door that leads into the second biggest room in the house, rivalling the dining room. The brunette gasps.

In two of the corners are piles of black bean bags, two large 2-seater sofas in the middle, at angles to the drinks cabinet. Down one side of the walls, furthest from the door they’d come through is a relatively large selection of books.

She walks over to the bookshelf and scans over some of the spines. “I’ve not heard of any of these.” She picks one off the shelf. “The properties of a Grindylow’s tentacles? What the hell’s a Grindylow?” Bellatrix smiles and takes the book from the girl’s hand.

“You will know in all good time.” She opens a door that must lead back to the foyer and looks back at Hermione. “Shall we?” Hermione nods and follows the ravenette as she ascends the first set of stairs.

This corridor’s much like the top floor’s but a few doors longer. “This one’s my room, if you ever need anything don’t forget to knock.” She pats a dark wood door, the second one down.

“The one back there is a bathroom. My room has an en-suite, as does yours.” She points a thumb at the first door they passed.

“I-I found that when I woke up.” She nods as she speaks.

“This next one.” She turns the nob, “is the upstairs living room” The door is swung open and it’s very similar to the one downstairs, if a few more bean bags and a snooker table in the middle. Along both sides of the room are two long, five shelves high bookshelves, numerous books crammed in; her inner OCD comes out to play as the books quite literally are chucked in left right and centre.

Bellatrix lets Hermione walk around the perimeter of the room, run her hands over the dark wood and then moves aside to let the girl walk back out again.

Hermione stops in the middle of the corridor, looks back and raises a brow and asks cockily. “Coming?” Bellatrix laughs and then breezes passed.

She goes to the very last door, centre of the corridor and opens it. “And last but not least, the library.” She pushes the door open and waits beside it to let the girl through.

“Wooowww! There must be millions in here.” If she thought the bookshelves in the other two rooms were big, this room dwarfs them put together.

“You won’t recognise _any_ of the books in here.” She can feel the woman watch her like a hawk as she looks at one of the first sections closest to them. Although she can only see the first ten or so shelves, the bookshelves went up at least twelve shelves on both stories. The book-ladders pushed all the way to the ends on both levels.

“Are these _all_ yours?” Thankfully these books are all alphabetical order, even though she can’t translate most of them, or make no sense what so ever. “What are all of these? They look like they’re from another world entirely.”

“In a sense they are, however, we shan’t ponder too long in here as we still have the two rooms on your level to look through.”

“O-okay.” She nods and turns around sadly. Then drags her feet as she makes her way over to the older woman and out the door.

Bellatrix rolls her eyes but follows the girl on the way up the stairs.

“I must say kitten, you’re walking much better than when I first found you.” The brunette halts mid-step, halfway up the stairs and turns around.

“W-what?” Bellatrix smiles up at the girl.

“When I first found you, in that fucked little flat – pardon my French – when you got up you could hardly move. In fact, I could give you some remedies to help with aches and pains.

Hermione nods in thanks, giving a small, shy smile as they reach the top of the stairs. The raven-haired woman leads the way to the first door on the right and pushes it open. “This is the second study. I rarely use this room.” Hermione pokes her head in and spies a large, dark-wood writing desk, the hutch facing the door. It looks to be a good few centuries old, the inkwell built into the side still containing an ink pot. Along one side there’s a floor to ceiling bookshelf, although there aren’t nearly as many books as on the other bookshelves, and they look considerably more worn.

The wall opposite the bookcase is one large window two and a half times the size of Hermione, looking out onto the road below.

Bellatrix slowly pulls the door closed again, forcing the brunette to retreat and stand awkwardly looking at the last door.

“And this, is the spare bedroom.” Bellatrix lets her glimpse inside, but the room is sparsely decorated, and the bed has been stripped down to its mattress, a similar chest of draws to the one in her room stands next to it as light floods in from the windows adjacent and opposite to the door.

“Now that the grand tour’s been given, I’ll leave you to your own devices. If you need anything, Evie will be in the kitchen.” Bellatrix gives the girl a soft smile, her eyes crinkling with faint laughter lines, just adding to the infinite amounts of the woman’s timeless beauty.


	4. In the Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione goes adventuring and they have a picnic :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY IT'S A WEEK LATE, my calendar didn't remind me

After a late breakfast, accompanied by the older woman; Hermione never thought she’d find herself wandering aimlessly around a massive house, nearly bored to tears. It had only just occurred to her that the library was at her expense but remembering the slightest of glimpses to what books were held there, she thought better of it and decided to wander a little longer.

She’d managed to stumble across a study room, looked around the many living rooms, and around the numerous bathrooms and even went to watch the kitchen staff, who looked over at her anxiously now and then.

A little odd, but this whole scenario was odd.

She then found herself stumbling up the many steps to her floor, _her floor._ She stopped at the top, wheezing, and glanced at the three doors, one of which was her bedroom. She then walks forward, trailing her hand along the left wall until she reaches a door that’s slightly wider than her own door and twists the handle.

She finds another bedroom, almost exactly the same as her own if her own room was smaller and squarer. This room also doesn’t have an en-suite like her’s does either.

She glances around again. It’s then, as she’s slowly retreating that she sees the notch in the ceiling, an equally as white but much more worn knob, no bigger than a small tomato. She stares at it curiously before stepping back into the room and letting the door slowly click shut.

She walks until she’s directly beneath it and looks up, the knobs a good few centimetres out of reach, so she looks around for something to stand on to reach it. She nearly leaves the room, deterred by the unusual lack of furniture suitable for her to stand on until she remembers there’s a poof hidden beneath the raised bed in her own room. If her room has one, surely this one would too.

She walks to the bed and rests her hands on the duvet before falling to her knees and bending over, just as she’d suspected there’s a lightly padded wooden step beneath the bed frame.

She drags it out and takes it to stand beneath the warn knob. She looks at it once more, before clambering onto the stool and reaching for the worn handhold.

Her fingers barely scrape over the underside when it slides open and a toggle on a string flops out, hitting her in the face. The suddenness of it scares her and she nearly falls off the poof, but she grabs the edge of the square that slid out from the celling keeping her balance.

She grabs the toggle and jumps off the step, pulling down a set of sliding ladders.

But, just as she places one foot on the lowest rung the dinner bell sounds downstairs and an answering call of her name from the mistress of the house. She rushes to push the ladders back and close the square of ceiling and drags the poof to sit neatly, back under the bed.

She walks to the door and steps out, casting one final glance at the worn knob and clicking the door shut, she’s walking down the corridor when a head of curly black hair pops up over the top of the first step.

Hermione can’t help but melt at the warm smile and glossy black eyes, her cheeks tinting a rosy pink as her hands start to fiddle with the bottom of her light blue Henley.

“C-coming.” She says and shuffles the rest of the way until she’s flopped down the first few steps and is stood next to the older woman. Bellatrix takes her hand, places it in the crook of her elbow and starts back down the stairs, younger woman in arm.

“Now, plans for today, I’ve arranged for a hairdresser to come.” She hooks her finger in one of the many curls and tugs gently. “You can decide to do whatever the hell you want with these gorgeous locks from there. After that, I have a little surprise for you in the garden for tea.” The brunette smiles up at the older woman and tugs herself a little closer, hooking her other hand over the one still wedged into Bellatrix’s elbow.

“Mmhh, sounds good.” She can’t remember the last time she had her hair cut, a good few years at least, not since... No, don’t you’ll only be in a foul mood for the rest of the day.

She shakes her head and rests her temple against the shorter woman’s messy bun. The familiarity of the action making her frown, but she thinks nothing of it. It’s just nice to have human contact for the first time in ages.

The walk down the rest of the stairs was in companionable silence.

Bellatrix guided her into the downstairs study where a remarkably thin man was waiting for them, his shoulder length hair pushed to one side and a nervous uptick to his mouth. He shuffles his Chelsea boots and pulls his hands out of his trouser pockets.

He bows to the older woman before straightening and holding his hand out to Hermione, a charming smile accompanying it. “I’m Coz.”

She takes his hand and he gives it a firm shake before pulling back and gesturing to a padded leather chair. “Shall we?”

She nods, sits, and watches as Bellatrix leaves.

After a few minutes of gossiping, discussing and fussing, she’d finally decided and not twenty minutes later, her head felt clean, tidy and ten pounds lighter. She looks at her reflection and runs a hand through her hair and she grins.

“It feels amazing, Coz. Thank you.” He smiles and nods, taking the mirror back and starting to pack back up. Just as he’s putting the last of his scissors in his bag Bella comes through the door and stops dead, her eyes trained on her freshly cut hair.

The hairdresser freezes, watching as the older witch comes closer. “Miss Granger asked me to, Madam Black. Please…” He nervously fiddles with the bag handle.

Hermione frowns at the man before looking back to Bellatrix when she feels a hand in her hair. “My God, Hermione … It’s so _short_!”

She giggles nervously. “Yeah” She whispers. Her own hand reaches up to feel at the soft curls. “I wanted a change, just in-case … in-case I’m no longer able to stay.” She answers quietly.

“-Able to stay…what? Stay where? If you mean here, then you can change that line of thinking.” Her hand stays planted firmly in the thick hair as her eyes squint. Hermione catches the look and looks away again.

The hand in her hair tightens fractionally making her look back to the older woman. “Tell me, why wouldn’t I want you to stay here?” Her hand slides from the hair on-top to the short sides and down to her cheek.

“B-because! … I’d be in the way. I don’t think anybody wants to willingly host their house out to a complete hobo stranger. You’ve fed me, bathed me, paid for my hair to be cut! I don’t understand why someone would do that.” She withdraws from the touch to her cheek, holding onto her elbow in-front of her.

“There is always a reason, my reasoning is cliché, but fate plays a big hand in your life. It has made your red string very thick and is closely entwined with my own.” She pushes her hand back up to the brunette’s cheek and strokes a thumb beneath her eye. “What do you see when I show you this?”

She holds up her right hand, showing a thin black, red and white friendship bracelet, a small metal plaque in the middle.

“Just a bracelet.”

“Yes, but what you can’t see is the worth, the sentimental value. This was given to me by my niece, who was given it by her mother.” She holds it out for Hermione to touch, watching as careful fingers stroke gently over the polished metal. “What you don’t see is the rumour that it’s enchanted, what you don’t see is that it’s made of an iron meteorite, fallen supposedly in the 1300s. What you don’t see is the tangible worth of it.” She steps closer, pushing their foreheads together, forcing the taller woman to look up. “Now, take that and apply it to you. What people don’t see in you, is your intelligence, your likes and dislikes, your ability to understand and empathise with those around you.”

Hermione wraps her arms around Bellatrix, squeezing her tight and sniffling into her shoulder.

“Thank you, Bella.” The hand placed at the back of her head when she stepped into the hug, starts to gently scratch at the fluff, and the back of her neck.

“Anytime kitten.”

A loud sniffle off to the side draws their attention and Hermione smiles sheepishly. “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen. Ooohhh, I’m going to cry.” Coz flaps a hand in-front of his face in an attempt to get rid of the tears.

She holds out an arm in invitation and he comes bounding over, wrapping them both in a tight hug. But not for long as the low growl that Bellatrix emits warns him of touching her for too long.

He scuttles back to his bag and hoists it onto his shoulder, Bellatrix nods once at him before guiding Hermione out of the room and into the living room.

Bellatrix can’t seem to stop looking at her hair. Hermione giggles. “You know you can touch it, afterall it’s you who paid for it.” A hum of approval later and a hand is gently brushing through the centre of her curls.

“The shortness suits you.” When she sat down one thing was certain, and that was that she’d have short hair, what wasn’t certain was what it would look like so Coz had suggested for her to have short sides and a thick strip down the centre of her head. When she first saw herself in the mirror her first thought was ‘IT’S SO CURLY’. Her curls, no longer weighed down by the rest of her hair had formed tight ringlets, making her slim figure and face fuller.

“It’s nearly as curly as mine.” The brunette grins up at the older woman, who’s stood just between her slightly spread legs.

“Now, let me go and get dinner, then we can go for a walk around the garden. How does that sound?” She pushes the slight fringe of curls up and out of the way, in turn gently pushing the younger woman’s head back and making her look properly at Bellatrix.

She nods, loving the attention this woman is giving her. “Sounds like a plan.” The woman smiles sweetly and then leaves to grab the picnic basket.

Hermione stands in the same place until the older woman returns and happily follows as she’s lead through the house to the side door. Which leads out into both the front and back gardens and further past that the meadow, which will sprout an array of wild flowers come spring.

She shivers as cold air hits her in the face and newly revealed neck.

Bellatrix looks over and quirks an eyebrow. “I also happen to be entirely prepared and brought some extra clothes for you.” She places the basket on the brick wall which lines the wrap around patio and rummages in a bag the brunette hadn’t spotted earlier.

She’s given a light blue scarf, matching hat and a thick white woolly jumper. Once she’s wrapped herself up in those, she’s handed a pair of mittens which are held open by Bellatrix and she happily shoves her hands into the soft depths.

She shivers, still cold. “A little walking will warm you up.” The black-haired woman smiles gently and offers an arm, which Hermione takes, and they carry on, walking down a well-worn dirt path out through the field. They keep walking until they reach the beach tree and Bellatrix leaves her standing in-front of it as she pulls out two travelling blankets and three faux fur skins.

One of which she lines with the other two placed on-top of each other.

She then turns around and walks back to Hermione, and wraps both of the left of blankets around her shivering frame, she tugs lightly at the corners and wraps the taller woman’s arms around her torso.

She leans up and licks her lips, “the easiest way to keep warm is through body heat. As you’ve probably already read in a gossip magazine.”

Hermione gladly leans into the shorter woman and tucks her hand beneath the leather jacket, even going as far as tucking the tips of her fingers beneath her thick plaid shirt as well.

“That better kitten?” Hermione nods, making Bellatrix laugh. “Come on then, wouldn’t want you to starve any longer.”

She moves them about until she’s sat against the tree with the brunette in front, hugging the blankets around her shoulders. “I could definitely get used to this poppet.” She purrs, stroking fingers over the back of Hermione’s hand.

One of Bellarix’s hands sneaks out from under the mass of blankets and slides into the basket, pulling out a tub of butties. “I have chicken, cheese and egg and cress.” Hermione pulls a face at the last one and the older woman laughs. “Egg and cress it isn’t then.” She teases and continues to pull out half a chicken butty and half a cheese one, putting them on small porcelain plates attached to the basket’s lid.

She nods gratefully, and they eat in silence, watching the wind and the wildlife, or what little of it that hasn’t gone into hibernation already.

They’re just towards the end of their butties when Bella pipes up, “This tree, that we’re sat against, was planted by my great, great, great, great, great nan, all the way back in 1300s as a courting gift to her husband, our family never did things the normal way.”

Hermione thinks over the ages. “Wow your family must have lived for ages to last that long. Wouldn’t each ancestor have had to have lived to at least 90 to pull that off?”

Bella smiles and nods, “Yes, but my family had the best of the best, our rate of mortality is higher than the average family.”

“But the healthcare in the middle ages was atrocious, they didn’t even wash their hands.”

“Mmmhh, maybe it was pure luck, who knows?” She taps her hand against the brunette’s thigh. “Would you like some fruit or cake? I have chocolate cake, oohh Evie makes the lightest cakes, they’re very nearly chocolate clouds.” Hermione hums, not sure which to go for before her mind is swayed and she breathes out a quiet ‘chocolate is life’, making Bella’s grin widen and the sides of her eyes crinkle.

“Good choice.” She makes sure to give Hermione the bigger slice, then scoffing her own with a few strawberries on the side.

“It may seem like all this land and my wealth was inherited, which it was but I also own a business. But most of it’s customers are the rich and filthy kind.”

“What type of business?”

“A … HR of sorts.” Hermione notices how the older woman dodges round the question. “What did you do before coming here?” The dark-haired woman leans her chin on the brunette’s shoulder.

“I did, um, magic…like busking, but with magic. It gave me my flat, so I wasn’t complaining.”

Bellatrix seems to perk up at the mention of magic, and from what Hermione could feel, she’d turned her head just a little more to look at the side of her face.

“Would you want to show me at some point, I love magic.” Hermione hesitates, not trusting the way ‘love’ was said; before nodding resolutely and looking down the blankets and prodding at the front of the fabric.

They sit in silence for a few more minutes before Bellatrix decides she’s entirely too bored and gets up, keeping the brunette wrapped snuggly in the blankets.

She leans up and presses a cold nose to the brunette’s neck, she flinches in surprise. “When we get back in, would you like a cup of hot chocolate. The proper, melted chocolate stuff?”

The girl in-front nods vigorously, dislodging the cold nose. “Yes, yes please. I love hot chocolate.” She shivers at the thought of Bellatrix’s house and it’s warmth. She’d do anything to be warm again.


	5. Magic Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lil' bit o' majikkk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people. Just a warning but as soon as the problem is solved I will replace this chapter with the real chapter.
> 
> I'm having major problems with word and am unable to access any of my fics and so, nothing will be updated at all. This includes 'Tourettes and ticks', 'this skin inked for you', all of them. 
> 
> I'm very sorry for the inconvenience, hopefully once my crappy lappy has solved itself I'll be able to post again so keep an eye out.
> 
> UPDATE - Word is now fine but all my fics have been lost, so any that I have written like this one to be able to have consistent update chapters have been lost. There won't be any new fics emerging for a looooong time.

“I won’t be here for the majority of the day Hermione.” The older woman leans back in her chair after placing her cutlery down on the sides of her plate. She glances over at the brunette, who had been scoffing her breakfast like it was going to vanish the moment she stopped.

It didn’t. “Not here? Why?”

“I have business to attend to, concerning food shopping and such.” She taps the prongs of her fork on the plate’s rim and finally turns to face the brunette fully. “It will be late when I return so don’t stay awake.” She gives a slight quirk of her lips as she watches the brunette struggle to swallow, whilst looking at her with wide eyes.

“Y-you’re leaving me… _on my own_?” The older woman nods. “Why?”

“Well, you won’t be entirely on your own, you’ll have Norman and Evie, even Dinkles.” Dinkles the flat-faced white feline, was introduced to Hermione just after they got in from the picnic the other evening and he came running at them, frightening the brunette half to death.

Hermione looks down at her plate, nearly scraped clean, “I like Dinkles.” Then she starts to hesitantly nod. She wraps her arms around herself. “I’ll still be lonely. Norman always calls me miss and Evie’s nearly constantly busy.” A small pout pushes out from her lips and the older woman takes pity.

“Look at it this way then, if I don’t go shopping, I can’t be sure my servants will get the right food in that you like.” In actual fact they’d probably do a better job than Bellatrix, but she’d never admit that. “When I get back, why don’t we settle on the sofa and you show me a few of your tricks. Hmm? Sound good?” She raises her eyebrows and Hermione can’t help but let her pout melt as the Raven-haired beauty stares at her.

“Okay, if you have to.”

“Good.” With that she stands up and calls for Norman, who appears and follows as his mistress continues walking out of the room, leaving the brunette to stew in her own thoughts.

Thoughts that, after a few minutes, start to drift to the bedroom and it’s fancy trap door. The thoughts start to fester and soon – once Bellatrix has left of course - she finds herself up two sets of stairs and pushing open the second bedroom’s door.

She goes to the bed, grabs the poof and slides it over so she can stand on it to grab the toggle. It slides open exactly like last time, only, she’s prepared for it and doesn’t nearly fall on her backside.

It’s dark in the space above, but she can tell there must be a little port hole or something that lets light in due to the house’s wooden beams far above, soaked in faint light.

She stands staring up into the area before looking at the door and straining her ears, one can never be too careful what with the amount of servants Bellatrix seems to employ.

Two rubber tipped metal prongs stick out slightly and she grabs one and yanks, forcing a set of thin, steep stairs to come sliding out, she hops off the poof and pulls the bottom of the stairs to the floor. One more glance and she carefully clambers through the trapdoor.

She moves swiftly trying not to disturb the decades of dust, what little dust has been disturbed by the set of stairs floats about, only seen in the beam of sunlight filtering in through a porthole high above.

She uses what little light there is, and still-adjusting eyes to peer through the slight darkness, the size of the loft close to being three of her old flat’s put together, although piles upon piles of cardboard boxes and old furniture make the space more enclosed.

She’s careful to not step through the trap door and to her potential death, because the floor is a _long_ way down. She steps towards an old raven writing desk, the top covered in a dark green leather and two old ink wells, long since dried; she runs her fingers along the aged leather, admiring the many jewellery boxes stacked together on the desk’s surface, glass, silver, gem encrusted, you name it it’s there.

She looks to the end of the loft without the porthole in it, a wall of boxes and old wicker chairs blocking the very end, a small path laid out by even more boxes, even a toy chest sits proud, part of the many three-dimensional shapes.

Her attentions brought to the beams up above and the slight pulsing, cooling the wood from a dark timber to a light blue.

Intrigued she makes her way to the line of boxes and furniture in her way, still looking up at the gentle pulses of light. She has to move one or two boxes to get there though, but she soon finds herself nearing the light source.

She moves the last obstructive box out of the way and finally she manages to peer around the edge of the box wall to where the glow originates. She finds, what is essentially, nothing; this side of the loft is strangely sparse considering the rest of the area’s stacked floor-to-ceiling with rubbish.

Not entirely sure what she’s doing, but doing it anyway, she makes her way past the temporary wall glancing around the space uneasily.

There are still a few boxes lining the wall and a few tucked away beneath the lowest point where the roof beams meet the floor.

And then there it is, her eyes are drawn towards dusty glass table, lined by black painted cast iron, the paint having peeled away from years of neglect. But it’s what’s on the table that makes her gasp. Centred right in the middle is a clear dome, made of either glass or crystal Hermione doesn’t know, but she notices how it’s not covered in dust like the table is, and the boxes around the loft, or the forgotten furniture.

The glow doesn’t seem to come from one particular source, like a light bulb, it just seems to be … there. There are two wooden stick-like objects suspended within the jar and as she gets closer she can see the eerie bobbing and circling they’re doing, both at an angle to the other.

She carefully kneels in-front of the table, resting her arms on the surface uncaring of the dust.

One of the sticks is long and thin and elegant, gradually getting thinner at the end facing down. There are three branches of ivy beautifully crafted to wrap around the top, almost like a handhold, before they too get thinner and more wide-spread as they make their way to the thinned end.

The other stick a darker hue of brown near black, more glossy, is slightly shorter, although that may be because of the large knot in the wood leading it to cut in a different direction the rest of it.

Hermione gets closer, and she reaches out her hand, just barely grazing her middle finger over the surface of the dome when she can hear rustling coming from behind the line of boxes. She pauses and listens. She can hear slightly laboured breathing, rustling of thick clothing, and the scratch of skin on fabric as whoever it is looks around.

“…Miss Granger?” The brunette sighs with relief as she slumps, then picks herself up and makes her way back around the boxes.

“Hello Norman.” The man turns to look at her after inspecting a cracked pair of reading specs, also covered in a thick layer of dust.

“Oh, thank goodness Miss Granger. I would hate to think of what the Mistress would have done to us if you had gone missing. Come, come, this dust can’t be good for anyone.” He gestures for her to climb back down the steps first, and she does so, although unaware of the frown and the glance back to the wall of boxes.

But she doesn’t fail to notice his lack of questions of why she was up there in the first place.

He sets about clearing up the way into the loft, “you know miss, you could have easily fallen and hurt yourself, or been attacked by bats, or worse, let the Mistress find you.” He shudders. “I’m not even going to begin to tell you what she may have done to you.”

Hermione watches in horror, her eyes wide until the butler looks up his eyebrows raising.

“Oh! Oh no, no, no Miss. Nothing like what your overly zealous imagination can come up with, no she would have sent you to be without food in your belly, or worse, had to do the gardening.” He glances out the nearest window and only seeing blue sky and clouds, being far too high up to see anything else.

“Oh, I see.” She thinks quietly to herself that an empty stomach wouldn’t be anything new to her. “Well, it’s a good thing you found me then, aye Norman?”

The old butler coughs quietly as the ladders slide back up and the hatch goes up with it.

Hermione fails to notice the lack of springs or pullies attached to the trap door.

The gentle man turns and looks at her, thinking heavily for a moment before his face lights up. “Oh, I have just the thing for miss’scuriosity.” He hurries out of the room and Hermione can’t help herself when she compares the man to that of an excited little dog.

They traipse all the way back down through the house and come to a stop in the living room. He roots around beneath a set of draws and pulls out an old monopoly set. He holds it out to her triumphantly. “Do you know how to play this. We can’t, and it was…it was here when we got the house Miss.”

A dark look passes over his face before his eyes flick to Hermione then the game box and his frown lifts.

“I’ll see what I can do. Go see if Evie will join us, if not please may I have a hot chocolate?” The butler nods eagerly and scampers through the kitchen door.

The brunette settles at the head of the table, recently polished. And starts to rummage through the box’s contents, happy to find everything in one piece and still within the box. She orders the fake notes and unfolds the board.

After organising everything and settling the chance and community chest cards in their slots and reorganising the property cards next to the box. She finds herself beheld with a tall glass of hot chocolate and two grinning house staff.

She gestures to the seats and they eagerly take, Dinkles even makes an appearance and after fussing around her legs, jumps into her lap and curls up, having to scramble back up every few minutes as her legs are at an angle.

All three settle into the game with Hermione being both banker and estate agent and succeeding an embarrassingly short game of which she won, they go about the second, occasionally fuelled by Evie hurrying into the kitchen and bringing out snacks.

Bellatrix is soon to arrive and smile at the sight of them ‘getting along’ she scrapes a chair to sit next to Hermione and watches as the game plays out. Soon finishing with Evie winning and a disgruntled Norman sulking opposite her.

Evie jumps up and enters the kitchen with Norman following, tail tucked between his legs, leaving Hermione at the mercy of Bellatrix’s mere presence.

The woman in question takes her hand and leads them into the other living room settles onto one of two sofas, pulling Hermione down with her.

“Now, about that magic you mentioned. Slight of hand? Illusionist? … _card_.” She gives a cheeky grin and pulls a mini playing deck out of an inside pocket on her jacket.

Hermione giggles and shakes her head. “No, more like a magical magic. I don’t know how to explain it so I’ll just show you.” She takes the pack of cards from the older woman anyway and flips the top open, takes out a single card and shows Bellatrix.

She sets her focus on the card and soon the top starts to smoke and then actually catch fire. She puts it out with a wiggle in the air and pulls out another and places it in her open palm.

She hesitates and looks up at Bellatrix who merely encourages her with an amused smile and she finds the courage to look down again.

With a rush of adrenaline and a film of colour only she can see the card is swept up into the air and levitated there, it’s folded twice and with a quiet hum of concentration it pops into a little paper bird that starts to circle their heads.

Hermione giggles when it lands in Bellatrix’s hair and settles down. “That is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen someone do.”

Hermione shies away but immediately perks in interest when the woman rescues the paper bird from her hair. She smiles at the brunette and with a blow to the little inanimate animal it takes flight and swoops above their heads. Hermione in absolute awe.

“You can do it too! I thought I was the only one.” Bellatrix smiles sadly.

“You are able to do much more than I, we just need to unlock it first.” She pats Hermione’s leg gently and calls for Norman and Evie. They run in and stand squarely infront of the sofas. “Show her.”

They both bow deeply before their forms start to shiver and shake and a gentle glow emanates from the veins beneath their skin. Norman suddenly shrinks and his clothes fall leaving him in a crisp white pillow case with one of the corners chopped off to fit his head; which had shrunk as well but his ears and nose had grown astronomically and his eyes became more cartoonish.

Evie on the other hand, had grown a foot and her back end had elongated into another set of legs. The lower half of her dress had torn apart and in place of two human legs, four equine legs had sprouted. Her ears had pointed and travelled further up her hair line.

Hermione gasps from where she’d squished herself into the fabric behind, her arms clenched tightly to the arm and the edge of the sofa in shock.

“Y-.. Hhh..” She gasps, her breathing erratic and heavy like she’d dunked her foot into ice cold water. “What?” She quickly looks at Bellatrix and then whips her had back to the pair infront of her.

“The more we show you the more it will register that this is our normal. There’s a whole world out there that is specifically for people like us.” She leans closer and runs her fingers down Hermione’s face, barely touching her skin before catching on her chin and forcing her head to look Bellatrix’s way. Hermione keeps glancing out of the corner of her eye though, watching as Evie’s TAIL SWISHES!

“Listen to me and listen closely Hermione. You are very important to this world and the events that will take place from this day forth, you shouldn’t be scared by it. Take it in, absorb it, learn from it and you will do well. Your natural talent is extraordinary and it’s just what people like us need.” She smiles and kisses the very tip of the brunette’s nose.


	6. Hello, hello, hello

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naughty, naughty magic policemen.

After that, the events that transpired happened quickly.

Bellatrix was rushing Hermione out of the room and to the foot of the stairs where Norman had started to tug her up by the hem of her trousers.

Bellatrix stayed at the bottom, gripping the banister tightly, her other hand still outstretched from where she’d tried to push Hermione up the stairs.

She’s made it to the part-way landing when the door bursts open with a shower of purple sparks and Evie’s stomped her way between the door and the rest of them, blocking Hermione’s worried view. Bella swivels back round from watching the door and shouts at Hermione.

“Go! Go upstairs and don’t come down until Norman tells you.” She turns back again and calmly presses her hand to Evie’s side, an angry Evie looks down at the woman and with a sorrowful face she steps out of the way.

The second she moves however, Bellatrix has been bowled over by three very large men.

She doesn’t resist even as hands find her limbs, neck and middle. Hermione screams.

She screams in fright and falls back down the stairs until Norman’s unfairly strong hand grabs her. Dinkles pounces from where he’d hidden behind the stairs and he too transforms like Evie and Norman, but not into a human.

After a poof and a shocked moment of silence from everyone later, stood at the bottom of the stairs, tail swishing is a tiger, it’s hackles raised and it’s claws gouging out marks in the deep wood.

The people who had burst in move swiftly back into motion when they realise the cat is keeping Hermione at bay and not threatening them.

“Madame Black, you are under arrest for violation of the order of house arrest. Anything you say will be held against you; we will be taking your companions into custody and any further action from you will result in a full arrest.” Says the man pinning her down by the throat. He has a mean bicycle moustache and a bald head, clearly shined with WD-40.

They start to forcefully turn her over and after the man’s hand had moved and clear purple splotches started to appear Hermione lost it.

She started to wail and fell into the banister, watching in destress as they even broke one of her arms.

She couldn’t stand the yelp and her wailing increased in volume until those around her were forced to their knees.

The first thing to smash was the glass panel in the front door, then all the windows and mirrors in the house smashed and finally the man with the bald head’s ears started to blead; Hermione finally passed out.

***

“No! Hermione.” Bellatrix can’t’ do anything as she watches Dinkles catch the girl lightly in his jaws and settles her down.

She’s pinned to the floor by magic, as the two stood in the doorway finally coming out of their fighting stances hurry to the man and try every healing technique they can think of.

Bellatrix doesn’t look away from Hermione, whose face was being licked gently by Dinkles. Evie had lain down where she stood, knowing that any other form of movement could push her into jail.

Norman’s stood at the top of his stairs, pulling his ears and muttering to himself as he glances from further upstairs and back down to the horror show below him.

Hermione’s hand clenches and soon her honey coloured eyes show and she groans.

Dinkles lets out a deep purr and licks at the rest of her until he’s startled away by the tapping sounds only he can hear.

He whimpers and flattens himself over the top of the girl and pins his ears.

Evie’s the next to hear and she two leans forward, eyes wide in disbelief.

Then finally they all hear it, the shattering of the last piece of intact glass from far above can be heard and then an ever-growing whirring.

Norman jumps out of the way as two streaks of light shoot down the stairs, one firing into Bellatrix’s hand and the other settling itself above Hermione’s.

The total of five intruders pause and watch as one of the sticks Hermione had found the other day gently relaxes itself into her outstretched hand and with a maroon glow to the tip of the piece of wood it’s settled fully home.

***

Soon after, the magic that had pinned Bellatrix down lifts and she scrambles over to Hermione who had passed out again.

Whilst she leans over Hermione, she subconsciously heals her own arm. The three that had pinned her down are crowded together with the two stood in the doorway. Shock and awe stretched onto their faces.

“Madame Black, you have found her.” The bald man stutters.

After ensuring Hermione is perfectly fine Bellatrix swivels on her heels and stares at them, face impassive.

She twirls her wand around; every time it even comes close to the intruder’s direction they quiver.

“Should that not be Minister Black?” She arches an eyebrow, settling her wandless hand over Hermione’s heart, tapping her fingers over a bare collarbone and hums.

“Tell me, was it necessary to break my arm?” She glances to the one on the very end, the one in charge of pinning down her left side. He quakes in his boots and shakes his head.

She then moves to the bald man and flicks her wand, his ears start haemorrhaging again and he falls to his knees with a yowl.

The final three she coolly looks at them, then after a second of hesitation she flicks her eyes to the other two and they quickly gather up their companions and rush them back out the door.

Bellatrix frowns at the cold wind and rain splattering the wood of the walkway and with a mutter the door slams back into place, as if it had never been knocked down.

She stares at the entryway for a while before a quiet murmur reaches her, and Evie soothes her, tapping against the girl’s chest to smoothing back her hair.

She turns to her, presses a kiss to her hairline and swiftly stands, picking the girl up in the process.

“Norman, Evie, we will make our way to the ministry tomorrow when the sun is a quarter of the way up, it won’t be raining. Ensure we have enough supplies to last the trip, I don’t want to make Hermione any more stressed than she already is.” A series of ‘yes madame’s are heard and she nods. The centaur passes Hermione over as they go about prepping fo tomorrow.

Bellatrix takes Hermione upstairs, into her own room and settles her down onto the bed. Draws the curtains. Lights the fire. And gets Dinkles to hop onto the furniture.

“Be careful you ugly mog, don’t abuse the privilege of being on my bed.” She sighs when he growls lightly at her and curls around the young woman.

She then proceeds to sit at her dragon hide and silver furnished desk top to proceed with writing a multitude of letters.

The first of which addressed to her two sisters.

_Dear my beloved siblings._

_My slight has been righted and I will be proceeding with integrating myself back into society. I have notified all parties of concern as I have notified you._

_I will be up taking my position of minister once again one week from now, after I have ensured the papers adhere to my rules._

_Give me two days before you come, of which I will have time to settle both myself and my beloved in time for your arrival. You need not fret and from this day forth I am officially reinstated as innocent._

_Wishing you are well,_

_My love Bellatrix._

She signs it off with a separate calligraphy flourish and seals them both swiftly with black wax and their house’s coat of arms.

She sighs, throws them into her fire and watches as they crumble into dust and fly up into the chimney – to reform in the hands of each sister. One of which startled in the middle of having dinner with her family when her silverware is replaced with parchment, and the other raising an eyebrow as the hand holding their child’s is intercepted.

Bellatrix glances at Hermione and continues with the letters.

***

In the morning, the sun sitting peacefully on the horizon, hidden by her tree, she has finally finished all of the aforementioned letters and is lightly dozing in her chair, her feat perched on the edge of the bed.

A loud yawn disrupts the silence and a groggy Hermione sways as she pushes her elbow beneath her, her eyes blinking unevenly and squinting.

She looks down at the massive cat snuggled firmly ontop of her legs and the tail she’s gotten hold of in her sleep, and then over to the now awake woman in the chair opposite.

“How do you feel?” She removes her feet from the edge of the bed and sits in place of her feet.

“Exhausted.” She grumbles and squeezes her eyes shut.

“Yes, I can imagine with what you achieved yesterday.” She smooths the strands of hair stuck to the brunette’s nose and smiles. “We best be getting up soon as we need to travel. I have to be somewhere, and you need to see it.” She gently pulls the young woman from her bed and pushes her promptly into her walk-in wardrobe.

“You’ll find a hand sink at the back, then find something to fit you.” Hermione glances around the huge space and marvels again at the shear size of Bellatrix’s house.

Whilst she picks and chooses, she lets out a consistent stream of questions.

“Sooo…what was that yesterday?” She shakes her head at a spaghetti strapped, blood red top.

“Where would you like to begin?” She hears, and it’s as if Bella’s sat right outside her door. – which she is.

Hermione scoffs. “Well. Let’s try the SODDING HORSE EVIE TURNED INTO.” She clenches a pair of trousers in her hand as she stares at the door.

A chuckle can be heard, “The magic you possess, is in everybody that has ever entered this house hold, people who don’t possess this can’t get passed, what I like to call, the barbed wire of the muggle world, defence system. To keep curious parties out and far, far away.”

Before she can breathe to explain further Hermione shouts. “WHAT’S A MUGGLE! Don’t start insulting people Bella.”

Another chuckle. “A muggle is what us magic folk refer to none-magical people as. In magical people, you’ll find what is known simply as chi, it sits in all of us, only it’s stronger in some and those are the one’s who are aware and can summon it.”

Hermione starts rifling through the _many_ jackets Bellatrix owns. Her ears still perked and attentive.

“I see it as a jug of water, if it’s damp and barely any drops of water *ahem* chi, are in it and you tip it up, the droplets will likely stay put as there isn’t enough liquid to push itself out. This is muggles. If you have maybe a centimetre and more at the bottom and you tip the jug, it will pour out, thus referring to us magical folk.” Hermione scrubs her face in the hand sink once more then pulls the door open, admittedly more violent than is necessary.

“So, I’m a jug of water? I better be the best damn jug of water miss Black.” Bellatrix laughs from where she’s fallen backwards and is now staring at Hermione upside down.

“You get what I mean, those people who so rudely barged in are what are known as aurors, or magic policemen. They keep the law and order in magical society, Magical and none-magical laws are very similar but ours include ones that for understandable reasons, link to magic, magical creatures and the people involved in it.” Hermione huffs and steps over the woman, who sits up as she does so.

“So, in the magical community, there’s magic people? Then what is Dinkles?” She turns and crosses her arms, before sighing and offering her hand down to the woman on the floor.

“Dinkles is a magical beast, he is more commonly known as the beast of Bodmin, or one of the many anyway. But really he’s JUST A BIG SOFTY” She shouts and the slumbering feline on the bed flicks his tail angrily.

Hermione giggles and goes over to fuss over the big softy.

“Anyway, back to the past. You passed out after accidentally summoning your magic and that triggered my wand and yours. Don’t deny it I know you’ve been in the loft, I know you saw that glass jar. What you saw was what makes summoning magic a damn site easier. However, they were up there in a strongly warded case because the fates had made it so. But more on that later, for now we need to be downstairs and out the door as soon as possible.” And with a winning smile she holds her elbow out for Hermione to take, who does so with a gawping mouth and soft fingers tracing her arm.

“Your arm’s healed!” Bellatrix nods and takes them both out and downstairs.


	7. The Ministry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive at the Ministry and are greeted by two siblings.

Stepping out of the mansion Bellatrix called home for half a decade she sighs and grips at the young woman’s hand tighter, tugging her past the iron wrought gate.

Stood in the middle of the dirt road is Evie, in a light blue military style long-coat that reaches down past where her human half transitions into her equine half to the tops of her front legs, with Norman in a smaller version of his usual butler garb and two small suitcases.

“Now, the method of travel we’ll use is a form of disapperation or teleportation similar to that of the zouwu. It sends you from one spot to the other if thought about. Evie will be helping us because the bigger the person apparating the faster and less tiresome the experience will be.” She gestures for Hermione to walk forward as Evie smiles down at her.

Bellatrix helps Hermione onto the cook’s back and with a jump herself, manages to settle right behind. She notices the brunette glance at Norman and smiles. “Don’t worry, he’ll be with Dinkles. Elven magic far surpasses that of humans, so he’ll be taking the luggage as well.” She settles one hand around Hermione’s hip and the other on her own thigh.

“Where are we going first then?” The woman behind hums and moves her hand to the mane protruding from Evie’s lower back and whithers.

“We are in Exeter at the moment and we can travel in twenty-mile leaps at a time, so Feniton.” Bellatrix glances at Evie looking at them and smiles. “But first, we need to properly pack up.”

She then proceeds to retrieve the crooked piece of wood from the loft and points it at the house. She mutters lowly, almost chanting to herself and slowly but surely the house pops itself down until it sits neatly in the middle of a large clearing that once housed it’s larger counterpart. She then flicks the wood and the miniature house zips into her hand, which she soon pockets.

Hermione releases a disbelieving breath and turns and stares at the older woman in shock. “You can’t be serious.”

“No, I’m his cousin.” Evie snorts and walks a few paces, forcing Hermione to face forward again.

She can feel as Evie rumbles lowly, tenses and then jumps forward, the world around them shifts and spins, tumbling past and if the sight didn’t make Hermione groan in discomfort then the sensation of being shaken about in a washing machine certainly would.

After barely a few jiffies the earth settles and Hermione keels over Evie’s shoulder and heaves.

“Woah there Hermione, don’t go throwing up on my staff.” She rubs her back and helps the young woman lean over further just incase she does throw up, and then once a little less green paints her face, swiftly gets down and helps her down too.

“Why don’t we go into a muggle shop and get some travel tablets. That’ll help.” They’ve stopped in an abandoned camping clearing, a sun-bleached sign saying which way was Colestocks and the other Aflington, to their left is a railway line and Bellatrix huffs.

“We’ve got a few minutes’ walk to the nearest shop, hope your shoes’ll keep up.” And with that the five of them trample through the grasslands and forest surrounding them. Norman taking shelter on Dinkles’ back early on in the trip.

They make it to the edge of a woodland, cows in the field in front and beyond that a series of buildings signalling a village or at the least a hamlet.

“You three stay here, I’ll take Hermione to get the medicine, be ready to travel again when we’re back.”

They reach the little village as the sun hits halfway between dusk and night and many of the small shops are open for business as the colder months mean it gets darker earlier.

They retrieve what they need from a corner shop pharmacy, looks being cast their way as an odd sight.

They make their way back immediately thereafter and carry on traveling.

They make a few pitstops every three leaps stopping in places like Cerne Abbas and Brockenhurst, each stretch taking time to rest and drink. More often than not Bellatrix will venture alone into the nearest village and retrieve supplies.

Eventually they make it to St. James’ park and transfigure Evie, Norman and Dinkles back to their more muggle forms. Dinkles is quickly strapped into a harness much to his disgruntlement and Norman is given the other end of his lead.

And together they make their way to a telephone booth squished against a cream coloured building. It looks deceptively old, but Hermione knows it could only have been built in a recent century as white walls was only fashionable in the not too distant past.

She frowns as she’s pulled into one of the two booths. “Couldn’t we have stopped in one of the other booths? They were much closer than this one.”

Bellatrix grins and turns her around to look into the booth next to them where Evie, Norman and Dinkles are stood waving cheerily at them. “Not really, as we wouldn’t have been able to do… _this_.”

She then proceeds to dial in five numbers and Hermione takes notice of the letters that glow lightly once the buttons are pressed, and her eyes grow wide as suddenly, the bustle of evening London shoots up and black walls surround them.

Bellatrix grips tightly to the tops of Hermione’s arms as she gets used to the feeling of what is essentially an elevator on speed.

Soon enough they’re slowing down and the door pings open, opening up to a large dark green hall.

The telephone box had descended into the middle of a very crowded area with it’s ceiling domed and at the bottom of both sides of the space are multiple fireplaces, with glaring green flames. People stepping in and out, and one or two barred and extinguished.

She gawks in wonder at the people disappearing and popping into existence and at the flares of noise and light as each fireplace is set off.

Bellatrix doesn’t dawdle and as soon as Evie’s telephone box is down, they make way through the crowds, many of which huffing at being pushed aside.

They reach a glorious fountain in the middle, the sculpture that of a centaur, elf, wizard, witch, and a goblin or which water is sprouting from the tips of what Bellatrix has and some form of magic is forcing the liquid around in the air to swirl and stir until it reaches the front of it.

The room the domed area was attached to travels high, it’s walls lined with shop-like windows and at the very top is a balcony, a huge bulbous light feature in the middle.

An archway, piled with more shop-like windows separates this room to another one, almost exactly the same bar from a large statue of a wizard.

Beyond these two rooms are more of the same, curving round to the right.

They make it to the second room without fuss until they’re waiting for an old-fashioned style lift, with two sets of grates as doors; when a woman stepping out of said lift looks up and at Bellatrix, her eyes and mouth go round and she starts to splutter.

Bellatrix grins and walks past her into the empty lift, with just the five of them, they fill the lift easily, the woman watching all the while.

When both grates are closed, they can hear the woman exclaiming. “Madame Black is back!”

Hermione doesn’t have time to think on it as the lift moves, and let’s just say the form of travel Evie took them through pales in comparison to the lift.

It jerks them about enough times that Hermione clings onto Bellatrix who’s merely laughing down at her.

They eventually settle on a more enclosed floor of which the closest wall is a mere three strides away. They step out and the corridor curves gently, doors barely four metres apart lining both sides, one of which being the metal grate they’d just stepped away from.

Bellatrix takes them immediately down one length of the corridor and they come out into a wider space, at the back of which is the same bulbous lighting feature from before.

She pulls Hermione through the door settled slap bang in the middle of the corridor facing the open space, either side completely bare of doors.

The workers in that space all look up and, unlike with the woman on the lift earlier, she doesn’t get to hang about to hear shocked exclamations.

By the time they’ve all fallen through the door Hermione is pinning the older woman with an intense stare. “What the hell does she mean ‘Madame Black is Back’?”

Bellatrix rolls her eyes, pushes Hermione down into a chair and settles in one facing it, a desk sits next to them with Evie, Norman and Dinkles, all now fully transformed stood between them and the door.

With a look from Bella, Evie moves outside giving Hermione a glimpse of a crowd of people and flashing bulbs outside before the door’s shut.

“The place we are in currently is the Ministry of Magic, our society’s version of the Government. I am the Minister of Magic, yes that means I am Prime Minister of the magical world. This next bit will be too much too early, but I don’t want you finding out through the paps, wizengamot, my sisters or anybody else that could jeopardise me telling you personally.” Bellatrix leans back in her chair and huffs, looking out what has got to be a magical window of rolling roof tops.

“I banished myself purposefully after the fates came to me in a dream. I inflicted severe punishment and clear rules on myself until what the fates wanted was met. That meant ordering those of wizarding Britain to treat me like a convict. To … _help_ , this process I departed my dear, dear husband in order to make life a little bit easier. This all started six years ago.”

She taps her crossed fingers on her stomach where they rest and look at Hermione with a blank stare. She leans forward, “More on _him_ , later. For now, I want you to listen to what the fates brought to me.”

She gets up, moves behind the desk and bends down to shuffle through what must be built in filing cabinets, and sits back up with a glass sphere, it’s insides swirling with shimmery wisps like a version of those little balls you sometimes win at fairs. Only this one isn’t crappy with pink glitter in the midst, this one’s mesmerising with what can only be described as grey fog swirling in and of itself.

Bellatrix looks from the sphere to Hermione from under her lashes, her mouth opens clearly trying to say something. “…I think you just need to listen.” With a reassuring smile Bellatrix opens her other hand out and waits for Hermione to put hers in it and then together they place both of their hands over the top.

Hermione waits a couple of seconds, confusion pushing her eyebrows down and quickly glances at the woman across from her. “I don’t thin-“ She’s cut off however, when a low voice blasts into her head, leaving her hanging mouthed and gripping onto the edge of the table with the free hand not currently stuck beneath Bellatrix’s.

Deceptively magical, hidden beneath rubble

Your magic will seem.

Given five years with three servants

Your betrothed will hinder, till death do us part.

Your honour once taken, will return with this girl

Youthful and full, her wand be binding

From this day forth, yours will be taken

Be wise and your wands will reinstate

As your roll as minister will not be mistaken

The ball hums silently it’s once grey-black wisps swirling fiercely until they spark red, the glass casing radiates red gently and soon the red sparks solidify into wisps and creep forwards in thread like ribbons to curl possessively around their little fingers and up past their wrists to elegantly swirl about their forearms.

The ribbon settles on her skin and Hermione cries out as it feels like touching a red-hot hob.

They both hear a sizzle as the ribbon sets and then sinks down into their skin. Hermione gasps and yanks her hand back, furiously rubbing at where she’d been touched. She looks up, at the woman across from her who’s staring in awe at her hand her face lightened by the need to smile.

“Hermione.” She’s says breathily. She puts down the globe and looks up. “Do you know what this means?” Hermione shakes her head, not sure on what to feel about this whole ordeal. “The fates, they have given us the red string of fate.” She holds her hand up to look at it in a better light, even though there’s nothing for her to look at.

“This means, this means that whatever happens to either end of this string it will always show us where the other is.” She laughs with shock. Rubbing around her hand with her other hand.

“But. But what? This is insane.” Hermione pushes the ‘unmarked’ hand into her hair, stills staring down at the other and shakes her head. This doesn’t make any sense. None, how am I to believe this hasn’t all been some dream? This is insane.” She makes a strangled noise and bends slightly at the waist.

“This isn’t something to be afraid of Hermione.” Bellatrix stands up and rounds the table, quickly taking the young woman into her arms.

“I know, it’s all just a bit much to take in.” She mumbles into her typical faux leather jacket.

Bellatrix nods against her shoulder and then pushes her short fringe back. “Look, soon you’ll be seeing what real magic is, learning it, feeling it, everything. You’ll see my actual home, meet my sisters and I can’t wait for you to meet my old teachers. They’ll be the ones who will primarily be teaching you. But most importantly kitten, this will all be done over time.” She pulls her back into the tight hug, scrubbing gently at the nape of her neck, short hairs scratching her knuckles. “You will settle into this new life, no worrying about where you’ll be at the end of the week, no worrying about intruders *cough*; no worrying about anything.”

***

They conversed through the next quarter of an hour or so, easily slipping from topic to topic.

The main focus was that of the prophecy and the string of fate. Bellatrix had smiled gently and held the younger girl’s hand that had been wrapped in the string and murmured softly, her eyes glowed lightly for a moment before their joined hands started to heat up and burn, like that of which when one steps out into the sun in the 25-degree British summer sun.

She had then pulled her hand away and a single fine string was threaded around their wrists and down around their little fingers, to join in-between them in a perfect little bow. Bellatrix then demonstrated how, when she moved further away the string would lengthen accordingly. Leaving a tingling sensation over both their limbs.

Not long after, Evie knocks on the door and casts her voice into the room. “Mistress, Mrs Malfoy, and Mrs Tonks, are here.”

Hermione shrunk in her seat at the way Bellatrix’s face paled and her mouth hung. “W-well, my sisters are here early. Don’t worry they’ll love you, it’ll be me they rib.”

She smiles reassuringly at the brunette woman and then glances at the door flicking her wand, the door bursts open half-way and two women come stumbling in, as if dragged in. No sooner had their heels cleared the door’s radius was it shut and the rabble outside was still kept waiting.

Hermione shyly looks over at the two women, one facing the door and the other facing them, their hood long over their head but not muffling the spluttering and huffing, nor hide long, white hair.

Hermione tuns to face Bellatrix as she stands and rounds the table, sets her back and grips her hands behind her. The brunette woman glances at the tightly curled fingers and gently threads her own through until she has hold of two middle fingers. Her hand is squeezed in acknowledgement.

Bellatrix clears her throat.

Both women stop faffing and look at her, mouths open in offence and shock.

Hermione decides the one on the left is practically Bellatrix’s carbon copy, with brown curls and a slightly more angular face. The one on the right has the same cheekbones and wide jawline, her hair pure white, black streaking over the centre. She can’t help but compare the second woman to a very pretty skunk.

“You bitch!” The left woman steps forward. She’s quickly pulled back by the white-haired woman.

“As much as I agree with our dear sister, you have some explaining to do, then I will let her rip your hair out.” Bellatrix merely rolls her shoulders and squeezes Hermione’s fingers.

She smiles down at the only one seated and gestures with one hand to the woman on the left first then the woman on the right. “Hermione, these are my two dear sisters, Andromeda, and Narcissa. Dearest sisters, this is Hermione.”

Two pairs of intense, hawk-like eyes zip to Hermione and she blushes and ducks beneath their powerful gazes.

They soon soften and step forward in harmony, their once hard faces, lines drawn, are smoothed and welcoming.

“This is the girl?” The one named Narcissa asks, and soon both women are cooing over Hermione, Narcissa running her hands over her and playing with her hair much like that of a mother over a child and the other, Andromeda, asking her simple questions.

Then they soon turn as one to Bellatrix, their faces drawn again. They stand between her and the brunette.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, cradle robber.” Although her tone is more that of the joking nature, Andromeda seems stern and concerned.

“Yes, yes. She is much too young, what were they thinking? Dearest sister, why on earth does this only happen to you?” Narcissa asks, looking over her shoulder at Hermione with a pitiful expression.

Hermione frowns and straightens a little. “Ex..*ahem* excuse me but I’m nineteen you kno-“

Narcissa turns to her and with a shushing motion, completes the task and turns back to Bellatrix. “ _Nineteen_? Bella, I thought you were better than this. She’s no older than my son!” Narcissa steps into Bellatrix’s space.

Bellatrix, who has remained silent so far squints at her sisters before moving them out of the way with the backs of her hands to their upper arms and goes to stand beside Hermione, resting her hand on her shoulder in the process. “Show them your wand kitten.”

“My wha-?” She glances up at the older woman who flicks her gaze to her hoodie pocket and her eyes widen. “Ooohh. I see.” She ruffles about in said pocket before withdrawing said wand, it’s elegant carving not going unnoticed.

“Goodness, I never thought I’d see the day. Come here girl, give me your wand.” Narcissa stands, hand open and waiting.

Hermione checks with Bellatrix before gulping and standing, coming easily taller than all three women. She places her wand delicately in an equally delicate hand and stares as she inspects it.

“Very well. However, I will not forgive you for ruining this poor girl’s life with your prophecies and such. All three of you shall arrive at Malfoy Manor for a proper greeting.” Narcissa glances at Hermione who stares blankly at the two women, then taps her second oldest sister’s arm and they walk back out of the door.


	8. Give me work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's back, and still scary.

When the sisters left, Hermione turned to Bellatrix. “You know, I still don’t know what compelled you to break into my flat in the first place, that’s what started this whole thing wasn’t it?” Bellatrix hums, considering her before gesturing to the chair she’d sat in before the sisters arrived.

“When I declared what the fates had said, I had meant every word. No contact that wasn’t required servants, who couldn’t leave, provisions brought and left at the door. I had ensured they were all aware they couldn’t leave; when I told you I was going shopping, I actually meant walking around the corner to where the provisions were left, I’d put a note down for my next requests. However, with no visitors allowed and very little to do, no assignments, paperwork, Acts to pass, laws to create or alter etc, it got brain numbingly boring, so much so that I started to go a little mad.” She pulls a face and winds a finger next to her ear.

“Evie suggested I go out for a bit, see what I could find; and I translated that into break into places that looked abandoned and see what I could salvage – I found I quite liked restoring long-forgotten furniture, much like the muggles do – and give it away. I broke into your flat thinking it was abandoned and that I had some easy way of keeping boredom at bay. I discovered you and the rest as they say, is history.” She takes the brunette’s hand and kisses the back of it. With a grin she stands up straight and glances about her office.

She seems to nod to herself, rearranges some of her books and then faces the door. She decides to allow a single reporter into the office and from his wide, owlish eyes she knows he’s a newbie. Therefore, easily manipulated.

“I’ll give you five minutes, after they’re up you have three things to do; one, ensure you haven’t misheard anything, two, you get the rest of the media outlets away from my fucking door, and three, you make sure this is voice recorded as I am not having that Skeeter beetle ruining simple answers. Clear?” Bellatrix sets a little box on the table, looking much like an extremely simplistic music box, she glances at the boy over the top of half moon glasses that have just been placed on the tip of her nose.

He chokes and swallows. “Y-yes, Minister.” He squeaks when Bellatrix moves her hand forward, she scowls at him as she merely starts to wind the box and then settles back, flicks her wand and the little crooked arm continues to wind.

“W-well, Minister Black. My first question is were the fates truthful?” He swallows nervously again and glances down at the pen, scribbling away on it’s own.

“Yes.” Hermione glances away from the nervous wreck and instead at Bellatrix. The older woman merely raises an eyebrow and taps her nails on the desk.

“W-well, very good. Is it true you killed your husband?” He squeaks again when a fowl frown pushes her face and she looks at Hermione.

The brunette looks at the woman in shock, could she really do that? The woman she’s grown to love would surely not.

“The fates declared it, I have no regrets, he was a misogynistic, hateful bastard anyway, so yes I killed him.” She keeps her eyes pinned on Hermione and the younger woman finds herself starting to sweat beneath her illegible stare.  
The boy nearly chokes as he looks at the woman with absolute terror. He nervously loosens his tie with a tilted chin.

“Do you not fear justice being brought to you? There would surely be an outcry that arguably, the most powerful being in Britain is able to do this?” He taps his feet anxiously, eager for this absolutely terrifying project to be over with.

“Mr…-“ She glances at him over her half-moons.

“S-steward.” 

“Mr Steward, there are many laws, and for those many laws there at least two more loopholes. You will find one such Act concerning the fates and their particular prophecies to be one of those laws that allow for many loopholes. I am not speaking as Minister when I say, our prophecy needed the death of that despicable man, what is society with one less white bigot anyway?” Bellatrix gets up ands starts to pace about infront of the magical window, she finally stops to look ‘out’ of it.

The boy’s next question is clearly his way of avoiding a potentially lethal disappearance on his part. “As the fates stated ‘given five years’ it has now been five years, either you are back now because the fates spoke the truth, or you have come to announce your imminent death. But with the line ‘return with this girl’ I assume this young lady with you is…said girl?” He swallows sharply as Bellatrix turns slowly, her hands behind her back.

Hermione had never seen her look so regal.

“I have nothing left to say except for the fact that yes, this is the girl, yes my wand has been reinstated and yes…I am the Minister of Magic.”

*** 

The boy had scurried out of the office with sweat soaking his collar and feet tripping over each other. He had quite clearly stated what Minister Black wanted to happen to the other reporters. The others although aware that he was an omega amongst Alphas and Betas, listened knowing Minister Black would act upon her words should the need arise. 

They all thought the same and knew what happened with her once husband would also happen to them. They had promptly departed.

Unbeknownst to them and the room’s occupancy one loan, blonde haired, bugger of a witch stayed and enacted her trademark story-getting manoeuvre also known as transfiguring into a beetle, tried to scurry beneath the door but the charms placed on the wood meant that she was blown ten foot across the open expanse of heads and hands writing furiously, over the banister railings and getting her clothing stuck thoroughly on the bulbous light fixture hanging precariously above gawping ministry goers.

Each newspaper thereafter was printed with exactly the same words and all published barely half a day after her return.

*** 

After the reported had escaped Bellatrix had closed the lid to the little winding box where she had given the boy the little shield-like appearance of what is essentially a cassette tape. 

Bellatrix smiled warmly at the girl and stood moving to the door granting Dinkles access and closes it again before making her way to the loan three-seater sofa off to the side. 

She glances over the ball of her shoulder winks and then transfigures the furniture into a single bed tucked warmly in a maroon duvet. She turns fully and gestures to the bed which the smaller Dinkles is already curled upon.

“Come and sleep, this will have worn you out and I have much work to do. I would prefer you stay with me here for now until my original house is reinstated.” She pulls back the covers, transfigures Hermione’s jeans and cardigan into more suiting cotton two-piece pyjamas. She tucks her in carefully kisses her softly and returns to her desk.

Hermione soon finds herself drifting off to the simple sound of rustling paper, pen and light breathing.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will be updated on a bi-weekly basis. :)


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